


Missed Affections

by SarcasmFish (Alcyonidae)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Little Fluff, little angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-08-30 07:44:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8524447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alcyonidae/pseuds/SarcasmFish
Summary: Only hours into their relationship the Inquisitor seeks Cullen out.  Is she breaking it off already?  Was it all a mistake?





	

The Inquisitor perched herself upon the edge of his desk, not quite fully sitting, as if she might flutter off if the breeze was right.  Cullen set his quill aside, capping the ink well and settling back into his chair to gaze up at her.  She had crept into his office after the sun had long set, hesitating for only a moment before rounding his desk and finding a place beside him.

“I.. wanted to talk to you,” she had stated, simple and brief, but her hands twisted in her lap and her eyes did not ever fully meet his own.   Their relationship was barely hours old.  Did she wish to break from it already?  Had she decided her confession on the battlements had been a mistake?  He sat up a little straighter.

“I’m always here to talk,” he replied, keeping his tone soft.  He was thankful he had shed his armor earlier, certain with the way his heart was beating it would resound off the metal.

She shifted her weight, making several attempts at beginning, but always shutting herself off before her thoughts could be spoken.  She stared down at her hands in her lap, frustration marking her face.  He longed to reach out to her and smooth away the ties that bound her from speaking her mind, to assure her that he would listen to whatever she had to say.  But if she were seeking escape from their fledgling connection he would not overstep this boundary.

 “You’ve probably already guessed.”  A deep sigh left her.  She lifted her head to stare out the narrow window at the night sky, paired moons already high and silver.  “But I’ve never had this before.”  She was quiet for a moment.  Fidgety fingers rubbed at an inconsequential ink stain in her palm.  Just as he was about to query further, she shifted her eyes to him, looking at him fully now.  “A relationship I mean.  Maybe not even a real friendship.”

She dropped her gaze back into her lap.  He relaxed his grip on the arm of his chair he had not realized he had been squeezing.  His fingers ached from the force.  He felt like laughing or sighing with relief.  She wasn’t here to confess a mistake.  She wasn’t here to break away from him.  He wanted nothing more than to sweep her up in his arms and shoo away all of her worries, but instead restrained himself.  If he stood, he would tower over her and risk her losing the nerve she had so clearly built up to confront him.  She had more to say, more she had planned and he would not reduce her concerns to frippery.  He remained seated, below her, where she could continue to be in control of the situation.

“In Ostwick, we were told mages weren’t among the Maker’s children.  We were told that we had to earn our way into His gaze.”  Cullen had been attending Chantry functions since before he could walk.  Lunches, summer camps, children’s functions; his parents had taken him and his siblings to it all.  Even in some of his loneliest moments he had been able to whisper the Chant, to ask for guidance from Andraste, to find solace in the Will of the Maker.  He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be denied that; to be told he was flawed and unlovable.  He had felt it, but never been outright declared that the Maker found him damaged.  He was gripping the arm of the chair again, this time out of anger.  How dare someone tell a young impressionable mage something so heinous? 

“I was alright with it,” she continued, perhaps noticing the clench of his jaw.  “It gave me a goal.  It gave me something to strive for.  But it also meant that if the Maker didn’t love us, that no one else would either.”

“That isn’t true,” he growled without thinking, regretting the harsher tone that once would have caused her to flinch away.

“I know.”  She smiled at him and he felt some of the boiling outrage simmer.  “I know that now.”

She was quiet again, staring down at the hands he so longed to reach out to, to peel them apart and twine his own among them.  He ached to confess to her the feelings that had circulated in him for so long, even if he could not yet put them into proper words.  Just as he was about to act she finally broke her silence again.

“I spoke with Cassandra for advice and she had such…”  A heavy sigh blew locks of hair from their resting place along her brow, she was carefully avoiding his eyes again.  “She had such beautiful romantic notions.  It reminded me that I’m not equipped for this.  I never allowed myself to even fancy that I could have something like this.”

He stared up at her, fingers flexing into a fist and then opening again.  He was stunned, stunned at her willing admission and show of such sudden vulnerability.  He strained with indecision.  A desperate side of him encouraged him to swoop around her like a large winged creature and shield her from any further harm the world might try to offer.  It was a strange urge.  He knew she had a duty.  He knew she was not his to own.  But the desire to protect her burned against his lungs.  The other force in his mind rattled against his skull.  It implored him to say the right thing, to find the perfect words, to be the ideal she needed.

While he sat, overwhelmed and frozen by his warring thoughts she continued, voice growing ever softer and less sure.  It was a tone he had not heard in some time.  It reminded him of the timid mage she was in Haven, waiting for the moment they deemed her no longer useful and shipped her back to the Circle and the nightmares contained within.

“I’m not sure what I’m doing.  And.. I’m frightened of doing the wrong thing.. of messing it all up.”

“So am I.”  His voice cracked at the quick response.  He would not allow his vacillation to leave her alone and convinced he did not understand her trouble.

Her head jerked up.  The silver on her lashes compelled him to stand and to reach for her, drawing her into an embrace.  She stood, awkward and hesitant a moment before relaxing into him, resting her forehead against his shoulder.

“I thought the very same thing.”  Voice finally found, he poured the words out to her, murmuring them into her hair.  “I thought this… this feeling was denied to me.  And now that I have it, it seems like so much wants to take it away.”

She slipped her arms around his shoulders, one hand finding its way into the hair at the nape of his neck.  It was a tentative touch, no doubt inspired by his scrupulous styling.  He let his eyes fall closed.  How long had it been since someone had offered such an affectionate touch.  Emboldened by his response she swept her fingers through his hair in a steady stroke.  He sighed, a weary, heavy thing and lowered his head to rest nearly against her shoulder.  They remained locked together in silence and dwindling candlelight, soaking in a lifetimes worth of missed affections. 

There was a strange building in his heart, one he could not quite place.  At first he felt only contentment, but as they stood together a strange soaring tightness built in his chest.  A grin grew over his lips and that feeling in his heart could scarcely be contained.  He grasped her a bit tighter and lifted her a few inches from the floor.  She squeaked in sudden surprise and for a moment he hesitated, not intending to frighten her, but when she laughed he set her down and kissed her soundly on the nose.  The action elicited only more pleased giggles and he felt as if the grin on his lips were a disease spreading through a tiny city.

The disease had surely spread to her already.  A bright and giddy grin warmed her face as she pulled back to gaze up at him.  There was such gentle fondness shining in her hyacinth gaze he found himself drifting, as if on a summer breeze or warm waters.

She popped herself up onto her toes and returned the kiss to his nose.  “I guess we’ll have to learn together then?”  Her normal positive tone had returned, but the way the sentence ended in a question belayed her lingering uncertainty.

He flashed her a little smirk, not loosening his grasp.  “I look forward to it.”


End file.
